


Love, Violence

by everydaysoul



Series: Fuck, Kill, Love: The Murder Husbands AU [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Bottom Jensen, M/M, Masturbation, Top Jared, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaysoul/pseuds/everydaysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill.</p>
<p> <br/>Jared's a crime lord who takes shit from no one, and Jensen isn't just his young, pretty fucktoy, he's <i>Jared's.</i></p>
<p>When Jensen disobeys Jared and gets himself hurt, Jared is predictably furious. Jensen's punishment isn't the most pleasant, but they're just fucked up that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill (http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/111773.html?thread=41424797#t41424797)
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Jensen's a lot younger than Jared (but not underage), Jared and Jensen have a fucked up relationship but everything is fully consensual although unnegotiated.

There’s blood everywhere. Some of it is Jensen’s – huge gash across his right forearm, where he raised his hands to defend himself (stupid, he should have ducked and grabbed for the knife instead, Jared’s going to be even more pissed at him for that) but most of it is his attacker’s, the rival gang member foolish enough to think Jensen an easy target just because he’s barely out of his teens.

The poor bastard who’s now curled up on the sidewalk, hands pressing over the gaping hole in his stomach to hold in his own intestines from spilling out.

Jensen wonders if he should feel guilty, but finds that he doesn’t feel sorry in the slightest. It  _is_  his fault in a way – if he hadn’t gone out when Jared had expressly told him to stay in, he wouldn’t have been ambushed, wouldn’t had to defend himself and Jared wouldn’t be so _angry_ that Jensen’s hurt. He steps forward. 

“Get back, Jensen,” Jared growls. “You’ve already earned yourself a whipping for disobeying me, don’t make it any worse.”

“But I want to do it,” Jensen says sulkily. He can’t help it; ever since Jared picked him up that day, claimed _ownership_ of him, Jensen’s never been allowed to get his hands dirty. It’s not like he doesn’t know how; he’s permitted his own weapons if Jared thinks he needs them, but most of the time Jared makes him stay on the sidelines, sometimes even locking him up if things get too dangerous.

“ _Jensen_.”

Jensen knows that tone of voice. It usually means that Jared’s a split second away from shoving him down, stripping him naked and whopping his ass red. 

It’s always been like that between them, all violence and sex and days when Jensen can’t even walk from how thoroughly Jared’s fucked him, and he  _loves_  it.

“Let me finish the-” Jensen’s abruptly cut off with a rough slap across his jaw. 

“A whipping the moment we get back to the hotel,” Jared says, gripping his chin, fingers pressing so hard into Jensen’s skin that it’s going to bruise, “ _And_ you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.” 

Jensen hates it when Jared kicks him out of bed. It doesn’t happen often, but Jensen can tell Jared means it this time, so he mutters a sullen, “Yes, Sir,” and backs away the moment Jared releases him. Resentful but suitably chastened now, he goes to lean against the nearest street light instead, then turns around to watch Jared.

He’s hot like this, cold and powerful and vicious. It’s not going to be a swift death, Jensen knows, and he settles back to watch as Jared stomps down on the man’s face, breaking his nose and probably knocking out a few of his front teeth along with it.

Jensen moans quite unashamedly, and he presses the heel of his uninjured hand to his cock, stroking himself through his jeans. Later, when they’re done with his punishment, Jensen knows Jared’s going to want to fuck him the way he always does after a kill.

And he knows Jared’s going to be rough with him tonight, even more cruel than usual from the vestiges of adrenaline and anger still coursing through his blood.

He can’t wait.

 

 

 

When Jared’s finally done with the thug, his face is a bloody mangled mess, throat slit just enough for him to slowly and inevitably bleed to death, red-tinged drool gurgling from his mouth as he struggles to breathe through crushed lungs. Jensen wants to wait and watch the life slowly fade from the dying man’s eyes but Jared’s already walking away and their car’s waiting.

Jared’s right-hand man, Misha, shoots them both faintly exasperated, knowing looks as they slide into the backseat of the plain black Lexus and Jensen has enough sense to know how badly he’s fucked up this time that he just keeps his head down. Misha leans over, holding out a towel for Jensen’s bleeding hand.

“That’ll probably need stitches,” Misha says with a small frown. “Do you want me to stop by a clinic on the way back?”

“No. We’ll just have Tim patch him up, we’re done here,” Jared says. “Back to the hotel now please, Mish, Jensen needs to be disciplined.” 

They sit apart from each other. Jared’s never showed any inclination for any open signs of affection between them, and Jensen’s perfectly fine with it. In fact, he likes it that way. Likes the way Jared’s cold and calculating extends to even him, the way Jared doesn’t fawn over him like he’s a weak little thing to be coddled and protected.

“Should I call up for extra security for the rest of the trip? You know they’re going to take this as a threat over their territory.”

Jared snorts. Even with his eyes trained on the dark carpet beneath his shoes, Jensen can sense Jared looking at him in displeasure as he says in irritation, “You do that.”

“For Jensen too?”

“Just the usual. Jensen’s not leaving the room for the rest of the week.”

Once when Jensen was deliberately being more of a brat than usual, sneaking out to explore while Jared was busy with work, Jared easily caught him, beat his ass raw, tied a heavy chain around his neck and fucking _leashed_ him to the bed naked, like a disobedient dog. Jensen remembers how he’d spent the entire day hungry, desperate to go to the bathroom and incorrigibly _hard_ with arousal.

They spend the rest of the drive in silence. Jared taps away at one of his many phones, and Jensen presses his cheek up against the cool glass of the window to watch the lights flash by. At this hour, the only places still open are quiet twenty-four hour stores, a few brightly-lit clubs (that Jared probably owns, Jensen’s been with him for almost three years now and he still has no idea how vast Jared’s criminal empire spans).

The hotel is right in the middle of town. Jared’s booked them the penthouse suite _and_ the entire floor below it for the week, which means there won’t be anyone around to hear Jensen’s screams. Not anyone who would care, at least – Misha and the handful of men Jared trusts to stand guard as they sleep are so used to his casual cruelty that they’re barely fazed by anything Jared does to him.

Their doctor Tim _tsk_ s loudly when he sees them, but quickly gets out his supplies anyway. Jared stands by, watching without a word as Jensen’s wound is cleaned, neatly stitched up and wrapped in a clean swathe of white gauze and tape. Jensen stares right back at him, curiously searching his face for any hint of sympathy or worry but finds only the tiniest downward curl of his lips.

Despite the Jared’s promise of sure punishment looming over him, Jensen relaxes.

It doesn’t take long. Jensen absently wriggles his fingers as Tim puts away his needles; his whole hand feels numb.

Tim straightens up, holding out a small plastic bottle of little blue pills and addresses Jared over Jensen’s head. “Would you want painkillers for when the anesthetic wears off?”

And again Jared answers for him. “No,” he says curtly. “Thank you, Tim.”

Jared motions for Jensen to follow him, swiftly striding out, and Jensen nearly trips over in his haste to follow, cradling his bandaged hand to his chest. He bumps right into Jared outside the door – he hadn’t expected Jared to be waiting for him – and winces when Jared grips him by his uninjured hand.

“What were you thinking? You’re lucky I got there before the fucker managed to slice your entire arm off,” Jared says. “What use would I have for you with only one good hand?”

_Doesn’t matter, you don’t need both my arms to fuck me,_ Jensen’s tempted to retort, but wisely holds his tongue; he’s probably done more than enough to piss Jared off tonight.

One day he’s going to get himself killed, the way he loves drawing out Jared’s darker impulses, like an unruly child dancing circles around authority. Encouraging his worst, fanning the flame that will inevitably burn him to a fiery death one day.

Instead he looks away, his mouth set into a small pout. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t really mean it, and he’s not surprised when Jared ignores his pathetic apology.

“Get back to the room and wait for me there, I have to talk to Misha about tomorrow,” Jared says. “You know what to do.”

Jensen scampers off. He can hear Jared making a small sound of disbelief at he goes, but doesn’t dare to look back in case Jared changes his mind. It’s difficult stripping down with a useless arm, but he’s managed more in worse physical condition. He feels vaguely upset as he clumsily rolls his clothes up and stuffs them into a trash bag to be burnt; his bloodied shirt is probably unsalvageable anyway but he’s pretty fond of his jeans.

But anything else is quickly driven out of his mind the moment he lies down on the bed, replaced by anticipation and lust. The sheets are clean, cool against his bare skin as he arranges himself in position: face down, legs spread wide apart, a pillow under his chest to prop himself. On second thought, he tucks his bandaged hand under his chin – Jared doesn’t care what else he does as long as he presents an appropriate part of himself for punishment.

Jared doesn’t return for what feels like ages. Jensen lazily rubs himself off against the sheets, moving his hips in small, slow circles until his precome wets a small patch under his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and thinks of how Jared had beaten the poor thug to death after first gutting him with the switchblade he keeps hidden in his belt, and nearly comes from the memory, only his sheer will keeping him from climax.

He edges himself, feeling the patch beneath him grow bigger and wetter, losing himself in hazy pleasure. He keeps both his hands clenched in the pillow under his shoulders, knowing it’s just going to turn Jared on even more when he comes back to see Jensen humping the bed like a desperate slut, his ass in the air like an invitation.

Because Jensen’s never been one for any sense of rational self-preservation.

He thinks that’s why they get along so well (as far as Jensen’s definition of _love_ goes, but he’s certain he loves Jared, and he _knows_ Jared dotes on him in his own fucked-up way). It’s as though they’ve been made for each other. Jensen’s insanity slotting into Jared’s violence like two puzzle pieces coming together.

Jared takes so long that Jensen’s arousal soon gives way to mild frustration, and he has to stop to take in several deep, shuddering breaths. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice Jared coming back.

“You’re getting careless,” Jared says coldly. “Letting someone sneak up behind you twice in a day? How am I going to trust you to know how to take care of yourself out there?”

“You don’t count,” Jensen says. “You’re fucking sneaky, you know you _always_ catch me off guard.”

“Clearly,” Jared says, and Jensen gets a split second telltale warning of something swishing through the air before the whip cracks sharply over his back.

“Fuck.” Jensen gasps, pressing his face down into the bed to muffle his next sounds of pain. Not that it matters – Jared’s vicious enough that no matter how much he tries, Jensen always ends up a begging, incoherent mess every single time. It’s embarrassing, how easily Jared works him over, gets to him every time.

It’s the pain, he decides, letting out a small cry when Jared slowly moves down to whip his ass too. It doesn’t make much sense to him. He hates having to _endure_ it while it happens, the way it cuts across his skin, not so deep that it will scar but damaging just enough to leave angry, raised welts that will sting for hours later. But the soreness afterward, the thought that it’s _Jared_ wielding the whip, hurting him –

It figures that even his sense of logic is as screwed-up as his desires are.

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until he suddenly feels an all too familiar rawness in his throat. Jared doesn’t stop until Jensen’s back and ass is covered in light criss-crossing stripes of scarlet.

“Jared,” Jensen whispers, trembling. His skin burns, like Jared’s flayed the skin off him – he knows Jared will never do that, will never hurt him beyond repair (Jared’s just ridiculous that way. He’ll never admit it but he would rather shoot himself in the head than cause Jensen any actual harm).

Fucking sentimental asshole.

“Shut up,” Jared says.

Jensen feels Jared yank out the pillow from under him and toss it aside. He half-rises up, expecting to be ordered onto his aching back to be fucked, but Jared shoves him back down with a rough hand in his hair.

Jared is silent as he pushes Jensen’s face into the sweat-damp sheets, and for a long moment, he just holds Jensen down like that, palm cupped over the back of his skull. Jensen calms down, instinctively holds his breath and just lets Jared do whatever he wants; he knows somehow that this is Jared’s way of reassuring himself that Jensen’s still alive and with him.

He remains pliant until he feels a mild panic surfacing despite Jared’s comforting hold on him, then squirms about to get Jared’s attention. Jared instantly releases him and Jensen takes in a huge gulp of air, eyes wet in relief.

“Thanks to you,” Jared murmurs, “Now I’ll have to deal with Nick’s gang possibly declaring a war on us.”

His hand moves down, stroking Jensen’s neck with uncharacteristically gentle fingers. It tickles, and Jensen fidgets until Jared crooks his fingers and his nails dig into his skin.

“But this will give us the excuse to fight back. We can get rid of their people, take over their operations in this city.” Jared scrapes his fingernails down Jensen’s back, making sure to scratch into each welt left by the whip, and Jensen whimpers in pain.

“Jared, please,” Jensen says shakily.

“I’d planned on just negotiating a truce,” Jared says, finding a particularly swollen welt just above the part of his asscheeks and brutally pinching the already-abused skin so hard that Jensen lets out a broken scream. Jared waits for him to stop, then goes on, “But now we have a reason to fuck them over, so we will.”

“When are we doing it?” Jensen asks weakly. He’s exhausted and he wants nothing more than to jerk off one last time and fall asleep, but now the cogs in his head are turning at their new plan. It’s going to be glorious; he’s never experienced a proper takeover of a rival’s territory before, but he’s heard stories and even with all the exaggeration he knows it’ll be bloody and ruthless.

“Not now. We’re cutting our trip short. We’ll leave early tomorrow morning, first flight out as soon as the sun’s up. I’ll come back here alone next month once we have everything ready.”

Jensen can’t help the disappointment that creeps into him. “Let me help,” he says, and it’s evidently the wrong thing to say because Jared snarls, and smacks his ass.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Jared says icily. “Prep yourself, and I don’t care if you’re not finished by the time I’m done, I’ll just fuck you raw.”

_Asshole_ , Jensen thinks again, annoyed, but quickly moves to obey.

He half-asses the prep anyway. 

 

 

 

Later, as he’s lying naked on his side on the mercifully thick carpet at the foot of the bed, shivering, his fucked open hole loose and sloppy, Jensen waits until he’s sure Jared’s asleep before rolling over onto his back. He's aching all over, and he can feel Jared’s come still dripping slowly out of him; he’s going to be _disgusting_ tomorrow but he doesn’t care.

He spits into his hand, and curls his fingers loosely around his cock.

**Author's Note:**

> (There will be more of this.)
> 
> But. What the actual fuck, seriously, self.


End file.
